


Domestic Future

by Wicker



Series: DeanBenny Love Week [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Birthday, Fluff, Future Fic, Happily Ever After, M/M, Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-05
Updated: 2016-07-05
Packaged: 2018-07-21 16:30:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7395022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wicker/pseuds/Wicker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for <a href="http://wingedwincest.tumblr.com">Wingedwincest</a> during <a href="http://Deanbennyloveweek.tumblr.com">DeanBenny Love Week. </a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Domestic Future

**Author's Note:**

  * For [castielsstarr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/castielsstarr/gifts).



On Dean’s 45th Birthday, he stole a pickup truck from a storage lot outside of Cheyenne, Wyoming, and loaded it with redwood timbers he bought at a lumber yard, then stacked about 400lbs of potting soil up on top of them. 

He didn’t really like birthdays. Never much celebrated them, and he was sure he’d make a psychologist's day if he discussed how being the center of attention made his skin crawl. 

It was a seventy mile drive to the cabin just on the north border of Colorado. Bobby had owned it, jointly with Rufus for a decade, then became sole owner when Rufus died. 

Now it was technically his and Sam’s. They’d maybe used it four times in seven years. The last time the brothers had had to sleep there on a road trip, there had been an entire extended family of possums in the kitchen cabinets. 

Benny had been more than willing to take over as the caretaker, and he’d been putting in the elbow grease to fix it up. 

As Dean pulled the pickup around the bend, he spied a new weathervane on top of the steep peaked roof. There really was no accounting for taste. He knew well enough that Benny had probably heard him coming down the road, but the sun would keep him inside. 

Dean began to unload the back of the truck, retrieving a shovel and a sledgehammer. 

There began something of a competition. 

Benny slid the kitchen window open. “You gonna be comin’ in and say hello, old man?” 

Dean drove a stake into the earth with the hammer and paused to strip off his flannel. “Hey, you’re pushing one-twenty. You don’t get to call me old.” 

“We arguing now?” Benny laughed.

“Nah, I’ll be in once I get this started.” 

“Don’t throw out your back.” 

Dean grumbled as he dug a shallow pan and set boards in the sides. He could smell something being baked, sweet and butter-flavored. If he had to guess, Benny was slowly torturing him with pie crust. 

He finished laying boards on the boundary and started with the bags, slashing them open and spilling them into the bed he’d prepared. It was hard work, and by the time the sun was setting, he had an ache in his shoulders and the scent of whatever Benny was baking was making his stomach howl and his mouth water. 

Dean didn’t wait to be invited in- after all, it was his cabin. He did kick his boots off before making for the kitchen. 

“Pear Pie’s coolin’. Did you plant anythin?” 

“Nah, I figure I’ll let you sort it out.” He crossed his arms and leaned on the doorway. 

He’d expected Benny to say something about the beard he was starting to grow, or about the fact that it was his birthday, but the cajun just smirked as he lit a candle sticking out of the pie’s golden-brown crust.

“Happy Birthday, Dean.” 

“You’re not gonna sing.” 

“Why? Do you want me to?” Benny’s eyes lit up a little. 

“Sure, but not that birthday song shit.” 

Benny set the pie down and pulled out a chair for Dean. “How about  _ “You are my Sunshine? _ ” 

“Nah.” Dean wiped his eyes and blew out the candle. “I’m good.” He settled down in his chair and smiled softly as Benny kissed the top of his head, fingers gently stroking his crow’s feet. 


End file.
